


Respite and Reprieve

by Ferairia123



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Art appraisal shows, Doctor Who References, Established Relationship, Extended Lunch, Flirty Gregory Lestrade, Fluff and Mush, Greg has flu, M/M, Mycroft is a Softie, Reference to Classical Roman Literature, Sickfic, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-23 04:09:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23438824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ferairia123/pseuds/Ferairia123
Summary: Greg had a flu and an ear infection. He thought he will be spending the duration of it all by himself but a concerned lover came to visit under the guise of an extended lunch.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 6
Kudos: 69
Collections: Mystrade Sickfics / Hurt-Comfort Collection





	Respite and Reprieve

**Author's Note:**

> I nearly gave up on this. My muse has been soooooo slow and absent I can't write as smoothly as I wanted. Happy readings!

Greg was feeling miserable as he waited at the clinic for his turn. His ears had been itching for a while, his headache is giving hell and now, after a rather rigorous ear picking, his left ear now aches. It's not as bad as a ruptured eardrum (long story short, illegal fireworks smuggling) but it’s painful enough that he's getting a headache.  
  
Of all times, he had to be out, it had to be the day the Superintendent wanted his attendance in a meeting. The data is all with his detectives, he had compiled it earlier but the Supt wanted the updated version and his superiors are more or less yelling at him. He had to send in Donovan with all his data and pray to god he wasn't going to get either of them sacked.  
  
The thoughts alone are going to give him a migraine over earache.   
  
"Mr. Lestrade!" The nurse called for him.  
  
Getting to his feet, he went into the Doctor's office.  
  
A few calls later and a wad of tablets and pills, Friday was over. 

  
  
-o-

  
He woke up, or rather decided to stay up since getting any sleep was impossible and, in the event that he actually fell asleep, he had nightmares and the cold sweat was making his joints ache.   
  
Getting breakfast and then scarfing it all down with his medicine, he turned for the den, the throw blanket and the telly. The current art appraisal programme was lulling him perfectly to sleep.  
  
The sleep that took him was thankfully light. Suddenly, he heard his door clicked shut. He reacted rather extremely and toppled off the sofa.  
  
"Gregory, are you alright?!" Came a familiar posh voice who had rush over to his sofa.   
  
Realising who it was, he felt embarrassed and rushed to untangle himself. “Just a minute.” He tried to convince him despite his struggles, getting winded as he did. Thankfully, the headaches didn't come then but the blanket was still tight. He only managed to sit up.

"Let me help." Mycroft offered gently as he looked relieved to see him.  
  
At that, Gregory stopped what he was doing with deflated laugh as Mycroft took it as a sign to start.  
  
"Sorry, love." He apologized as he felt Mycroft wring out the blanket from around him. He still had his coat on.

"Much more complicated than a carpet, I should admit." He said with amused lilt and twinkling eyes before returning his focus on the blanket.  
  
Gregory gave him a scrutinizing look at the word. It was a reference of something. A smile appeared as he figured it out. "Cleopatra?"  
  
Mycroft gave a nod and small smile. "Indeed."  
  
"Oh, wouldn't that make you Julius Caesar, then?" He asked, cheekily.  
  
"Now, Gregory-"  
  
"Argh!" He yelped and flopped in his bound state when he felt icy caresses over his sides.  
  
Mycroft immediate retreated. "I'm sorry Gregory. Did I injure you?" He asked as the other man panted from exertion.  
  
"Yeah, your hands are freezing cold." He said complained in amusement as he recovered but the exertion had made his head and ear to throb, causing him to grimace in pain.  
  
Mycroft looked at him critically before resuming his work, this time careful of where he slid his hands. "As I was saying, perhaps a more relaxed evening is to be arranged." He suggested gently, above him as he untangled the ones near his arms.  
  
Mycroft hovered over him with a slight pause but he resumed when he caught Greg’s eye. Greg was curious despite the brain fog from the medication and whatever sickness he had.  
  
He held out a hand to help get Greg up his feet before he could think of it any further. “Have you eaten?” He asked gently with a small smile.  
  
“Not since breakfast?” He said as he looked for the clock at the kitchen, realising he had at least three-hour lapse since the last time he glanced on it.  
  
“Splendid.” Mycroft said as he turned towards the coat hanger, taking his phone out. “Perhaps, lunch is in order.” He said, wordlessly asking for Greg’s input.  
  
Greg was a bit surprised.

“Would you like some soup? Or do you prefer something heavier?” He asked when Greg had not responded with answer, giving the other man an expectant look.  
  
“Uh, wait, you're- Don't worry, I'll order in lunch." He said as he doubled back to the sofa looking for his phone. He has to grip the sofa to steady himself. Being dizzy was not fun.  
  
Seeing this, Mycroft got to his side but respectfully stayed at a distance. "I had hoped that we can spend some time together and this was very much a disguised excuse for extending my lunch." He told Greg with an amused smile. "If anything, consider this my... penance for taking advantage of such a situation."

Mycroft was full of surprises to day.  
  
Clearing his throat, he had his Ice Man mask back on. "Unless, you prefer to dine alone, then it is perfectly understandable."  
  
Kicking himself mentally (Hah!), Greg tried to salvage the situation. "No, no, I love having your around." He vaguely wondered if he sounded patronising but he was more or less panicking at the moment. "But.ah." He trailed off as his brain started to draw either walls of blocks or some really patronising, bordering insulting responses that he knows better than to utter out loud.  
  
Mycroft place a placating hand on his lower back, extricating him mind from wherever he was. "Worry not, Gregory. Consider this my fruit basket." He said with an understanding smile and a peck to his cheeks. "Light meal or something heavier?"

Greg deflated with a chuckle. “Hey, I’m sick.” He mock admonished as Mycroft withdrew. “You’ll get sick, too"

“I have my flu vaccinations up to date.” Mycroft boasted discretely as he busied himself with his phone in one hand and his coat with the other. “Now, I am ordering a sandwich for myself. Would you like one too?”

“No, something soup-y 'be nice." Piped up happily from his seat.

-.-.-

The two men finished lunch and somehow managed to settle into the two seated sofa. It seems the art apprasing show had given way to an art provenance investigation programme.

“Kind of hard when forensics doesn’t help that much, innit?” He commented. The painting itself was so simple that his daughter can come up with it, too.

Mycroft simply nodded. “Countless paintings has slipped through the fingers of time because of it. The wars, theft and countless movement of hands had made it hard. But forgeries had muddied the waters as they say.” He said grimly. “Lucrative industries begs exploitation. Not to mention the tax evasion schemes.”

From what he had heard, Greg knew better than to pick his brain now. As interesting as it sounds, he is not up for a headache inducing deductions. “So, is that an original?” He asked in curiousity.

Mycroft chuckled. “Yes, it is. This episode has been re-aired. I find the reveal at the end is interesting.” He said enigmatically.

“Huh, really?” Greg said in surprised interest. “Didn’t take you for the telly.”

“Spoilers.” Mycroft gave a mischievous knowing smile reminiscent to a certain character.

Greg guffawed to the point he had to stop because his headache threatened to spike. “Christ! River Song, really?!” He exclaimed in boyish awe.

Mycroft gave an affectionate nod. “Indeed. If time permits, perhaps we could discuss on this.”

Greg just slumped into the sofa dramatically. “That’s it. This must be a dream. Or some kind of alternate dimension when I fell off the sofa. There’s no way I’m this lucky.”

It was Mycroft’s turn to chuckle. “Or perhaps, I’m the one with such luck.” He returned. “To have you…”

A heavy silence washed over them like a cold bath. In their world, things like this are ephemeral.

Greg gave a thoughtful hum before slowly sliding sideways to rest his head on Mycroft’s lap. “The show is really slow. I’m getting sleepy.” He mocked a yawn.

Mycroft was at a loss as to what to do as Greg turned to face him, legs hanging off the side. “Since you're here, mind telling me the 'reveal' after all the goose chase?"

"There was a record of it at an art museum but it was a BBC documentary that gave them what they needed." He replied mechanically.

Greg genuinely felt surprised. "That's lucky."

Mycroft gave a small smile. "Indeed it is." He told him as he glanced at the show. "That documentary will be there in 10 minutes."

At that, he was even more surprised. But he was surprised that he was surprised at this. He was talking to a Holmes. They surprised him at every turn. At that, he felt a throb.

He doesn't what gave him away but at once Mycroft was giving him the critical look again. 

"Do you think a small... siesta is in order?" He asked conspiratorially.

At that Greg choke on his spit as he laughed, causing Mycroft to manhandle him to an upright position while Greg tried to brush him off.

"I'm fine, love. Just spit that went the wrong hole is all." He said with a red face, tears and an amused smile. The headache and earache was back and now he has the misfortune of getting a roughed up throat and an aching back too. 

"Perhaps, we should settle for the bedroom." Mycroft suggested in a way that brook no argument as he held out a hand.

"Sure, love. Any ideas?" Greg quipped again hoarsely, still hasn't gotten over the laughing fit.

Mycroft gave an insufferable roll of his eyes as Greg grabbed his hand. "Come on. We all could use a nap." Greg said as he pulled the other man to the bedroom. The darkness of the room was really dulled the pain from the headache.

"Come, darling." Mycroft gently as he nudged him.

Greg got over to the bed and sunk in it with a pleased groan. The aches were reduced considerably but the comfort of the bed was better. He could hear Mycroft busied himself as he readied for bed too.

He drifted off into sleep before he felt Mycroft next to him. He turned towards the man, feeling his arms over him. "Getting comfy yet?"

"Yes, Gregory. " He felt him replied. There was an amused air. "Sleep, darling." He coaxed.

Greg managed a huff of a chuckle before embracing the wave of sleepiness.

-o-

Mycroft had left after dinner. Unbeknownst to Greg, Mycroft had kept a close eye on the Metropolitan police. Thankfully, Sherlock had cooperated after some negotiation with Dr. Watson and the day was able to carry on smoothly. 

The doctor gave Greg three days medical leave but Mycroft ensure that the office matters will not be a problem for seven days.

**Author's Note:**

> ....please don't kill me at how....lacking it is.


End file.
